


the box on the shelf

by StarrySkies282



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Danvers-Rambeau family, Family, Fluff, Happy Ending, What else do I add to tags help, kinda angsty??, maybe ramvers if you squint and use a magnifying glass, set during the captain Marvel film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18406397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkies282/pseuds/StarrySkies282
Summary: Carol returns and a promise she made with Monica is fulfilled





	the box on the shelf

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is kinda a follow up from [ (Sundays and Spaceships) but I guess it can be read alone Enjoy x](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/18255557/)

They didn’t get to build the model. When they got back, her mum was frantic, going on about a Dr Lawson who said she had some work to do and needed them right away. Well, that was what Monica gathered. Still, it was supposed to be the weekend, her time with Auntie Carol and mum. And now she was being dropped off at her grandparents.

  
—

  
Her mum came back. No Auntie Carol. Monica remembered that day clearly. When she asked where Auntie Carol was, her mum started crying. Her mum who never cried.

  
—

  
The model sat there, on the shelf in Monica’s room. She had been waiting for Auntie Carol to come back; they had promised to build it together.

  
“When will she be back, mum?” Asked Monica, a few days later.

  
“Oh darling, she’s not coming back,” her mum said, her voice wobbling.

  
“Of course she is! She’s auntie Carol! She always comes back!”

  
“Not this time, I’m afraid,” her mum sighed. “There was a crash— an accident.”

  
“Mum, she’s probably just lost. She’ll be here in a few days, asking what’s for dinner or something.”

  
Maria didn’t have the energy to argue. “I hope so, baby,” was all she managed.

  
—

  
Dust began to collect on top of the box. Monica left it untouched, insisting Auntie Carol would be back, and that they would finish it together.

  
She protested when her mum tried to get rid of it, when they were doing a clear out.

  
“I’m still waiting for Auntie Carol so we can build it,” said Monica, resolutely at the age of nine.

  
“She’s not coming back, Monica, she’s dead.” Said her mother bluntly. “It’s been four years.” She had long since accepted the fact. Monica, however, refused to believe it.

  
“Auntie Carol is not dead, mum, she’s just lost somewhere. Remember, like that time you and Auntie Carol lost me in Disneyland, but you found me after a while.”

  
Maria remembers that day clearly. She wants to believe Monica, believe she is right, with all her heart, to hold onto this hope, this childish hope that Carol is coming back, just lost in transit.

  
—

  
Monica brings back a friend from school one day, Amy, and they go to hang out in Monica’s room while Maria gets them snacks.

  
“Your room is really cool,” Amy says, looking at the space posters on the walls and the photos of her mum at the Airforce base.

  
“Thanks,” Monica replies easily, but then freezes when Amy goes over to The Shelf.

  
“Hey, what’s this?” She asks.

  
“Oh, just an Apollo 11 model,” Monica says, trying to act casually about it all.

By now, she’s eleven, and even though she holds on hope that Auntie Carol will return, she doesn’t want to talk about it now.

  
“It looks kinda old, how comes you haven’t built it yet?” Asks Amy, unaware of the fact she has stepped onto a minefield, but noticing the dust gathered on the box.

  
Monica doesn’t know how to answer this. She knows teachers at school had been previously briefed about what had happened, but she hadn’t really spoken about it with any of her peers. She hadn’t wanted to. It felt as though if she said it out loud, Auntie Carol wouldn’t come back. And she so desperately wanted her to. To hear her call her “Lieutenant Trouble.” To sit with her and count the stars. To laugh with her again, the way they used to.

  
Finally, when Amy looks at her strangely, she says simply: “I’m waiting for someone.”

  
“Oh, right, your— dad?” Said Amy.

It was more of a statement than a question, Monica knew, but all the same, she replied. “Something like that,” she said, willing herself not to cry as she thought of Auntie Carol. How inseparable the two were. How they were always plotting some little prank or other. The way her mother’s whole face would light up when she saw Carol. The stories they would both tell.

  
After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence where Monica was intently pulling at the loose threads on her duvet cover, Amy stood up.

  
“Well, um, this has been real nice, Monica, but I really should be going— I, er, said I’d help my sister with her bike.”

  
Monica knew it was a lie, but she didn’t try and contest it. In a way, she’s slightly glad: she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep it together.

  
“Oh, right, well, see you on Monday,” Monica managed as she watched her go.

  
“Bye.”

  
Moments later, she heard the front door close.

Monica slumped. Great, Amy would probably have half the school talking about her on Monday. How _strange_ she was. So much for her mum’s plan for trying to get her to fit in, to make friends, to forget about Auntie Carol.

  
“Hey girls, dinner will be ready in—“ the words died on Maria’s lips as she saw Monica sitting alone on her bed. She had managed to pick up a book when she heard her mum coming up the stairs.

  
“Where’s Amy?”

  
“Oh she had to go— remembered she promised to help her sister with something.”

  
“Ah, right, well dinner’ll be ready in ten.”

  
“Ok.”

  
Her mum turned to go, and Monica looked on sadly. She thought of asking Maria if she still missed Auntie Carol, but knew the answer as she recalled all the times she had caught her mum crying over old photos, or one of Carol’s t shirts when she thought Monica wasn’t watching.

 

So still, the box stayed.

  
—

  
Monica knows something is wrong when she sees her mum freeze and drop the wrench she was using.

  
It’s then that Monica gets out of the plane and sees her.

  
She’s coming towards them with a man she doesn’t recognise, and trailing behind him a... cat?

  
Her breath catches. She was right. She knew it all along: Auntie Carol would come back. And here she was, testament to that faith.

  
Her mother just stared, gaping, rooted to the spot. When, for some reason, Auntie Carol asks if she can speak to Maria Rambeau— almost as though she doesn’t remember her. But that’s not possible, right?

  
The doubting thought passes and Monica runs over and hugs Carol tight, as if she’d never let her go.

“I told you she’d come back,” Monica says to her mother, smiling.

Then there were conversations and Carol was talking about aliens and an invasion, and the man who was with her introduced himself as Agent Fury from SHIELD, whatever that was. The cat, apparently, was Goose.

  
But then they discovered that Auntie Carol didn’t actually remember anything about her life before the crash— only flashes she said. Well, maybe Monica wasn’t supposed to hear that part, but being in the other room didn’t stop her hearing anyway, even with Agent Fury trying to distract her.

Still, Monica showed her the box of her old stuff, hoping it would jog Carol’s memory. Maybe it does, because Carol smiles, and later calls Monica Lieutenant Trouble, which makes Monica smile and squeal: “You remember!”

Perhaps now, she could bring the box down.

But then the green people show up, taking of war and light speed tech and Dr Lawson. And her mum and Agent Fury and Auntie Carol tell Monica to go outside while they discuss what is to be done— and listen to the black box recording from the crash.

  
So Monica sits outside on the porch with the box in the fading light until Auntie Carol comes out.

  
“Hey,” she says, sitting down next to Monica.

  
Monica smiles back at her, but Carol can’t help but notice that it’s slightly sad.

  
“You okay?” Carol asks.

  
“Yeah, I guess... is it true that you don’t remember what happened before the...” Monica trails off, not sure how to articulate herself.

  
Carol sighs. She can tell all this is hard on Monica. From what she’s gathered so far, they had been very close.

  
“Not much,” she admits. “But, I do recall watching the stars with you, and then holding you and pretending you were a plane, flying you inside.”

  
This makes Monica beam, she remembers that evening very well, just before Auntie Carol left.

 

  
The fireflies swirl in the sky above, and distantly, crickets can be heard in the grass as a few moments of silence pass between the two.

  
Finally, Monica plucks up the courage and brings out the box.

  
“It’s okay if you don’t remember but before you left, we bought this: it’s the Apollo 11, a model and you said we’d build it together. After— after you had gone, I didn’t want to build it... I wanted to wait for you, and I hoped you’d come back...”

  
Carol breaks a little inside, but she doesn’t show Monica.

  
“Well, why don’t we get started now?” She says brightly, opening the box for Monica, and passing her the instructions.

  
—

  
The light had all but faded except for the ones on the porch and the ones inside. The finished model lay next to Monica, finally assembled after all those years of waiting.

  
Monica yawned sleepily and Carol noticed that within a few minutes, she was asleep, resting her head on Carol’s shoulder, smiling peacefully.

  
Carol looked out into the dark, absently playing with Monica’s hair— it felt like something she had done before. She thought about the conversation and what had passed between her and Monica. They had been a _family_. Her family.

She stayed like this, quiet for a while longer, until the silence was broken by Maria, putting her head round the door and shouting:  
“Get your butts inside, you’ll catch a cold!”

  
Monica woke at this, and smiled sleepily: it was just like old times.

  
The smile deepened as she felt Carol lift her and carry her inside, whispering into her hair: “I’ve got you, Trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think x  
> Also sorry if the formatting is a little screwy


End file.
